


You're Her Favourite Aunt (And I Can See Why)

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/F, Femslash February, First Meeting, Post-TFP, rosie is turning 6
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-01
Updated: 2017-02-01
Packaged: 2018-09-21 08:35:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9539966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Molly meets Harry for the first time at Rosie's birthday party.





	

**Author's Note:**

> not beta'd, not brit-picked.
> 
> happy femslash february, everyone! this story was inspired by the lovely [sherlockladylove's prompt list](http://sherlockladylove.tumblr.com/post/156223180095/femslash-february-prompt-list). 
> 
> this is short and not very elaborate but if everything goes according to plan, this is the first in a series of independent mollarry oneshots.

Harriet Watson was self-confident.

That was Molly’s first impression of her. She had waltzed into the flat as if she owned the place, but not in a snobbish way; she just seemed comfortable. Not awkward. Not stressed about getting there by herself, in a room full of potential strangers.

Seriously, she was nothing like Molly.

And the moment she walked in, there was only Molly, blowing balloons and probably looking like a madwoman, wide eyes and red cheeks. Harriet looked around, twisting car keys in one hand, and locked eyes with Molly, “Is John here yet?”

“Not yet, no,” Molly said in a much firmer tone than expected. She had been blowing balloon after balloon for minutes now. She should be out of breath, but the words just came out of her without a second thought. “He will be here any minute, he’s bringing the cake.”

“Oh, right,” Harriet smile, like that had reminded her of something else, before she turned back to Molly. “Sorry, how rude of me, I’m Harriet. John’s sister. Mrs Hudson let me in.”

“You’re Harry,” Molly pointed out, then felt her cheeks burning. The balloon she had been holding with her fingers deflated slowly when Harriet smiled at her. “Sorry, that’s… John calls you that way, and I just…”

“It’s fine, please call me Harry. And you are?”

“Molly. Molly Hooper.”

She offered her hand, but she didn’t realize how far they were from each other until Harriet - no, Harry - walked closer to take it. “Nice to meet you, Molly. John has mentioned you, and so has Rosie. You’re the favourite aunt, apparently.”

Harry’s hand was cold, and Molly noticed she didn’t seem to be wearing gloves. That stood out mostly because her outfit looked impeccable - a sharp grey suit, with what looked like expensive heels. She had a briefcase slung over a shoulder, and her sandy coloured hair was loosely tied behind her head, long strands making their way to her shoulders.

“Rosie’s an angel,” she blurted out, giggling. She didn’t know why she was giggling, but the sound seemed to amuse Harry, because she kept her smile.

“And a brilliant kid, or so I hear.”

“Oh my God, she’s brilliant. But I suppose that’s to be expected when you’ve got Sh--”

Thunderous steps on the stairs made Molly halt, and Harry turned over her shoulder to see John jogging up the last steps. He acknowledged his sister and smiled at Molly, carefully holding a big package on both hands. “Glad you could make it,” he said to Harry, lowering the package on the kitchen table. “Rosie’s been asking to see you.”

“Has she?” Harry said to John, but he had his back turned to them, going through the party’s supplies, so she turned to Molly and raised her eyebrows in a conspiratorial manner. Molly stifled her giggles. “What about her dad?”

“I’ve slept in the room next to yours for eighteen years, I’ve seen plenty of you,” John said in a light tone, but Harry still turned to Molly and mouthed “ _ouch_ ”.

Molly snorted. That got John to look at them, “You two knew each other already? I don’t remember.”

“We’ve just introduced ourselves, sort of,” Harry said, putting her briefcase down and rolling back her sleeves. Molly was entranced by the movements for a second before she remembered John, standing a few meters from them.

“Yes, we were just talking about how Rosie… How smart Rosie is.”

John nodded, going back to pulling things out of plastic bags and cardboard boxes. “She’s got her mother’s brain, thank God. Plus, you know…” He gestured in the general direction of the fireplace, and Molly’s eyes landed on Sherlock’s leather chair.

“Right. That’s what I was telling Harry. Harriet. Harry,” she shook her head, smiling embarrassed at Harry, who was emptying a corner of the centre table. “Anyone would be a genius having Sherlock as a tutor. I mean, not that Rosie isn’t smart herself, it’s just…”

Harry sat down at the table, picking up an empty balloon and pulling at it to stretch the latex. “The detective is smarter. I get it. She really is a lucky kid. All things considered.”

John wasn’t paying attention to them anymore. He kept running up and down the stairs, talking to Mrs Hudson in her flat, fumbling with box after box of napkins, plastic cutlery, and so on. Meanwhile, Harry and Molly kept blowing balloons, in silence at first. Then, right when Harry opened her mouth and seemed about to ask Molly something, there was a knock at the front door, loud voices carrying upstairs. Janine had arrived bringing two of her young cousins, and from then on, the room just kept getting louder and louder. In about an hour they had it all set, and when Sherlock walked Rosie in a while later, the combined voices exclaiming “surprise!” had the girl jumping first from fright and then from excitement.

 

* * *

 

 

“Can I get you another?” Harry said as she approached Molly, who had been standing alone by the door, eyeing the empty can of Fanta in her hands. “Unless you’re driving, of course.”

Molly laughed, “It’s ok. I’ve had enough for one night.” She stopped, not wanting to let the conversation die there. “Having fun?”

Harry gave her a funny look as they surveyed the flat; there were kids everywhere, most of them entertained by Rosie and Sir Isaac, the family dog, as the pair showed off all their tricks. The few adults scattered around looked worn out and ready to get out of there; Mrs Hudson was the only one still laughing excitedly with the kids, sitting on John’s chair.

“More fun than he's having, I suppose,” Harry said, nodding towards Sherlock, who was standing with a glass of juice that hadn’t been touched, frowning at Greg, John and Hopkins’ conversation. “Was it last year that he tried to slip away disguised?”

“No, that was the year before. Her fourth birthday. Last year they held the party at the pool,” Molly smiled fondly at the memory. “John almost made her wear four armbands. Two on each arm.”

“He didn’t mention that on his blog,” they both laughed, and Harry looked at her brother across the room. From this close, Molly could see the similarities - the dark blue eyes, the thin lips, the expressive forehead. “I saw the pictures he posted on Facebook, though. He’s such a dad.”

“He is,” Molly nodded, then bit her lip. “Are things better now? Between you two, I mean.”

Harry looked at her curiously, and Molly tried to apologize, but the woman interrupted her, “It’s fine. I don’t mind you asking, don’t worry.” She looked at Rosie as she said, “The thing is, I wasn’t around because I didn’t want to be. No, actually, I did, but I couldn’t. I was in a pretty bad shape the past few years. John agreed that it’d be better for me to stay away while I got better. Which I did, so,” she rose an invisible glass in a mock toast.

“That’s harsh. Staying away, I mean.” _Not sure if I agree with that_ , Molly wanted to add, but had the sense of mind to keep it to herself. Although the look on Harry’s face made her think that she had been understood.

“It’s life,” she said, shrugging. “I really am better now. I’ve been sober for almost two years.”

Molly turned to her, amazed. “That’s wonderful. Is it offensive to say congratulations or something or the sort? I’m sorry, I really don’t know.”

Harry chuckled, eyes glinting. She looked so sure, Molly thought. So comfortable in her own skin. So stunning.

“It’s all fine. Thank you. It pays off, in the end,” she said, watching Rosie play around in the middle of the room. “Too late for my marriage but not too late for my niece, I hope.”

Molly tried to remember what John had said about his sister’s wedding, but she couldn’t recall him ever mentioning it. “I’m sorry. Was it recent?”

“Oh, no, it’s been ages. We split up for good… What? Seven years ago, after years of breaking up and getting back together.” Harry chuckled. “She’s a good friend now.”

Molly felt her cheeks burning. She looked away, but then thought that it would be interpreted the wrong way, so she turned back, and saw Harry’s lips curling upwards. She wasn’t looking at Molly, not directly, anyway, but she must have seen how flustered the woman reacted to her words. For some reason, Molly had completely deleted the knowledge from her mind, forgetting altogether that Harry was a lesbian. She felt stupid - had she been too friendly? Too flirty? She had acted so freely around her, what if Harry got the wrong idea?

But what wrong idea, exactly? It’s not as if Molly was dating anyone, her mind told her in an enlightening moment of realization. She felt funny all of a sudden, and tried taking a sip of her Fanta, but remembered she had already drunk all of it.

“Well, that’s good, isn’t it?”

“What is?” Harry asked, amused.

Molly felt her stomach drop. “That you two are still friends. You and your ex. Ex-wife.”

“Oh,” Harry found her eyes. She looked like she was enjoying some private joke. Her face wrinkled around her eyes when she smiled. “Listen…”

Molly turned to her. Really turned, body and all. She felt stupid still, face probably red as a tomato, but she didn’t want to run away. She didn’t want to flee or hide behind a smile. She’d do this. Whatever _this_  was. Harry’s smile widened a bit as she stared into Molly’s eyes in front of her.

“I don’t want to scare you or pressure you or anything,” she licked her lips, buying her some time to watch Molly’s reaction. “But do you think maybe we could talk over a cup of coffee? Another day, I mean. Get to know each other. It’s ok if you don’t want to, don’t worry.”

Rosie let out a happy scream, and they both turned to watch as the kids seemed to run here and there randomly, playing something Molly didn’t quite grasp at first. It gave her a second to let Harry’s words sink in, and to let her catch her breath. She turned back to the woman.

She realized she wanted it. God, she wanted it so much. The realization made her feel a lot less anxious than she had been the last couple of minutes.

She smiled. “Sure, I’d love that.”


End file.
